Afflicted Memories Are the Ties that Bind
by Fire Lord Azula
Summary: They both miss their mothers, but not in the same way, and the Water girl sometimes reminds her of the woman she lost all those years ago. Azutara, oneshot, hints of one-sided mental incest.


This was written for the Riding The Dragon Spring Festival Slash Exchange on LiveJournal, featuring Zuko and Azula in slash and/or pre-slash relationships. The giftee was margerydaw_2; her prompt was the summary.

****Disclaimer:** **I make no claim on the characters of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. They belong solely to their creators, and I garner no profit from their usage.

For all their differences, the one thing to unite them had been the loss of their mothers.

At first glance, this wasn't so remarkable or particularly surprising on its own. It gave them a basis through which to relate to each other and swap stories, forging a bond through sameness… or so one would surmise until scratching past the surface, uncovering the convoluted truth amid reasonable assumption.

It, in fact, had been the variances that existed within the mother-daughter relationships to spark something akin to camaraderie in both parties.

Katara's mother had been killed; Azula's hadn't died, but she was gone all the same. The Waterbender wondered what it would be like to have a mother still living; the Firebender wondered what it would be like to have a mother who was _there_.

Though Katara's features were an eclectic mix of both mother and father, Azula took precious little from her female parent, save for perhaps the full lips. A reflection of Ozai in both face and constitution, the Royal House had been split in decisive halves through more than allegiance. The peasant's amalgamation of Hakoda and Kya's traits served to accent their tightly-knit, well-blended family. Upon approaching the Princess about her mother's appearance and being met with a distant "not like me", the Waterbender could think of no other reaction but to blink.

"Zuko," the royal clarified, not content to let confusion simmer. "She looks more like Zuko. They have the same eyes, and the same perpetually sad look on their faces."

Present-tense. That had been of interest to note. Princess Ursa may not have been dead in the physical sense, but hadn't her daughter renounced her as an entity worthy of consideration in current times?

Whereas Katara could cite no parallels between the Firebender and Kya, the Waterbender _echoed_ Princess Ursa in so many ways. The unabashed mothering of her comrades, the affinity with animals (she had a rapport with the flying bison second only to his owner), the sheer aura of _protectiveness_… Azula's mother oddly resonated through her.

What should have driven them apart brought them together. What should have repelled the Princess intrigued her to the extent that she'd hunted her enemy down after coming within a hairsbreadth of permanently ending the Avatar cycle and _demanded_ the girl explain what it was that made her so maternal.

It had spiraled out of control from there. Katara naturally embodied those qualities, but assuming her deceased mother's role in the family - in the _tribe_ - strengthened those traits. Devoid of sympathy, the Firebender had nodded absently at the tearful recollection, far more invested in what this outpour of information could mean for _her_.

Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why would you even ask me something like that, anyway?"

Unmoved by her foe's sudden venom, shoulders arched into an indifferent shrug. "I could ask you just as easily why you volunteered it."

The dark-skinned girl had no answer to that. It wasn't any of this _monster's_ business, yet she'd found herself confiding in the other girl with relative ease nonetheless. Part of her attempted to rationalize it through what Zuko told her beneath the catacombs: the Fire siblings had their mother cruelly snatched from them by their own nation when they were still very young. The other part… couldn't rationalize it at all. This heartless Firebender would most certainly use this information to her advantage _somehow_.

Indeed, Azula did - but not in the ways either of them were expecting.

Katara was supposed to've fled with her friends and the Earth King on Appa. Lingering on the grounds of the conquered palace to await the arrival of the Fire Nation's champion was _wrong_. Time and time again, the words replayed in her head; she believed in them, but nothing changed. Her feet wouldn't - _couldn't_ - respond to the commands of her brain.

The Princess had only requested her presence in an elaborate scheme to capture her. It only made sense: her friends would return - with the mortally wounded Avatar in tow - to rescue her. Azula would have them in her grasp, and through the imprisonment of the world's last hope for peace, she would solidify her nation's victory.

Knowing this, why did Katara voluntarily, haphazardly, _stupidly_ stroll into the dragon's den?

Curiosity killed the catowl, but the Waterbender was more surefooted than that.

Still clad in the uniform of the Dai Li - green was strangely flattering against the backdrop of pale skin and dark hair, the peasant found herself noting with increasing discomfort - Azula calmly appealed for a retelling of everything shared with her brother hours prior. _Everything_, not merely a condensed summary of Kya dying and her daughter becoming the de facto matriarch of the Southern tribe. Sensing no overt danger from fulfilling the benign request, Katara launched into her considerably lengthier explanation. The arrival of the Southern Raiders, the horrid man who'd taken Kya captive in exchange for her freedom, the heart-wrenching moment whereupon she stumbled into the tent with Hakoda to the scene of her mother's charred body: nothing was withheld.

To that, Azula nodded with more interest than the first time around, even offering a sliver of her own history with the woman termed her mother… but something _burned_ in dragon-gold eyes as she closed the story. The addressee couldn't determine if it was anger, rejection, hurt, or something else entirely.

Had she known better, she would swear it was lust.

Azula's eyes _should not_ have glinted the way they did when reminiscing about the time her mother, clad in nothing more than a _wet_ two-piece bathing suit, barged into her bedroom to scold her for filling her brother's bed with cavehoppers.

Nor should she have smirked at the memory of her decision to take refuge in the closet while Princess Ursa dressed down for the night.

Katara didn't press for clarification of whatever the girl across from her was feeling - not out of politeness or a mindfulness toward privacy, but because the possible (_probable_) answers frightened her.

A second shock came in the invitation to dine with the new Earth King. To prove the food was fit for consumption, Azula had the cook bring the meal out on one large plate and divide it between the two of them while her guest watched. The Princess would never eat contaminated food, not even to make a point, dispelling worries of poison or hidden particles of metal or glass. Shifting awkwardly in her seat, Katara had fashioned an inaccurate, but well-intentioned bow to thank her host for the generous banquet.

There would be no dismissal. Throughout the dinner, the searing amber gaze never strayed far from her general position. Without a healthy source of water to draw from, escape would be impossible - the monstrous Firebender would fry her alive if incensed. If she wanted to leave, she would need to wait the other girl out.

With growing unease, she waited for the prodigy to tire of her and finally send her away. Instead, Azula invited her into the Earth King's quarters, her own after the occupation.

Positioning her enemy before the full-scale mirror before taking a position behind her, the slightly shorter girl separated unbound strands, gathering half to hoist into a proper topknot. The tight wrap of a ribbon to hold the style in place was met with an ardent leer at their dual reflections upon completion. "Yes… that will do nicely."

Regarding her reflection, Katara swallowed thickly.

A week passed, in which the Waterbender maintained her new hairstyle as the two traded stories, mostly over dinner. A number of times, she'd been given the chance to end the occupation for good by way of kitchen knife, but the puzzle of Azula's childhood fed piecemeal stilled her hand. No doubt it had all been to gain sympathy, but regardless of the other girl's intent, Katara couldn't bring herself to deal a lethal blow when otherwise tempted by misplaced cutlery.

Their first kiss had come completely out of the blue - and during a tale about Ursa, of all subjects.

Katara had been thankful for one variable, at the very least: had they been in the royal palace, there was little doubt the overzealous Firebender would've attempted to fit her in the banished Princess's clothes. She had no such worry overseas.

To simultaneous relief and confusion, she was permitted to speak about her own lost mother, relating childhood memories to the best of her recollection. Opening up to her enemy-turned-"companion" had been strangely cathartic. For all her inclination to interject and supersede the other party, Azula had proven a surprisingly good listener, always attentive though rarely vocal. It seemed almost to Katara that the other girl was absorbing her anecdotes to obtain that missing piece of what it truly meant to have a mother, but she later supposed she would be giving the hard-hearted prodigy too much credit.

Another week had passed, crawling yet escalating against Katara's conscious; she was unceremoniously moved to the Earth King's grand bedchamber.

Surely everyone had written her off for dead by now.

When Azula would find her weeping, she excused the sobs as being for her mother - a half-truth the Firebender believed because she could relate on the most basic of levels. She never would've been able to process tears shed for lost friends.

Advances grew more overt. There came a point where the royal forewent subtlety. In late-night hours, when the darkness of the Earth King's chamber shrouded the Waterbender's dark shin and bedimmed the bright of blue eyes, Azula would sometimes pretend. The girl's limbs were far shorter, her body leaner and more toned from the rigors of travel and battle, lips lacking in fullness, nails blunt and unpolished, but the Fire prodigy's vivid imagination made up for these shortcomings.

There had been a woman in her life, long ago, who had birthed her. That woman had never been _her mother_. Neither was this girl.

Bathed in light, she knew whose lips she kissed; whose body she lay astride. The dark became the domain of vibrant superimposition.

For what it was, it worked. Her mother's love had been nothing but an illusion. How was living in her mind any different?


End file.
